The future of the Borg
by Carnage
Summary: Rated R for later chapters. I will write more - eventually. I'm very busy right now, so give me a break, people! The story is about what happens when a Borg from the future arrives, and malfunctions...If I tell anymore, I'll be spoiling it!
1. Prologue

Prologue  
  
Awake.  
  
The Borg stepped from his alcove as he heard the command spoken by millions of voices. He stepped over two dead Borg bodies, their grease and sweat gathering on his shoes. This did not bother him. He had a task. The Queen had given it directly to him. That was how it worked. He was given a task and he followed it.  
  
The deck bucked liked a startled horse, nearly throwing him off his feet. But he was lightning quick, as always. Unharmed, he continued. He had heard a thousand voices cry out in pain in that instant. He had felt millions of Borg die, as their bodies were thrown into the dark, cold emptiness of space, as empty as the Borg mind. He felt their deaths as they were either frozen by the temperatures in space, or were blown apart from the explosion caused by the enemy ships.  
  
Still it didn't bother him. He had no emotions, no feelings. He had only the Hives orders.  
  
Six Borg jostled past him, rushing to repair damage done by the enemy. Their organic components sweated behind their uniforms. The Borg had improved their shape over many years of assimilating, to blend in more and to work more efficiently. The improved shape was less bulky and easier to work in. He saw the shape put into practice as he walked past two Borg crouched next to a dying Borg, repairing him and also taking away some of his skin, to be used later to create another Borg.  
  
A message was sent to the ship, millions of voices with his along with them, speaking as one:  
  
"We are the Borg. Prepare to be assimilated. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own. Resistance is futile."  
  
Another voice, on its own, was transmitted over another channel.  
  
" We want no bloodshed. This is Captain Robert Louis of the USS Freedom. Surrender your ship for processing and evaluation and we will not have to destroy you."  
  
The Starfleet Captain, human and weak, had another Borg with him. The weak Federation had other allies, the weaker version of Borg. The captain's suit was torn in two places, where the Borg ships blasts had tossed and thrown him. He was like the others of his ship, stubborn but strong, and the answer vibrated in the whole of the cube.  
  
Never.  
  
He continued on his way. Another blast rocked the ship.  
  
He reached his destination. More Borg died.  
  
He stepped into the shuttle, prepared to save his race, which were all dying. His cube was the last of the ships that were left, attacking in this great battle against the Federation.  
  
He connected to the ship, and closed his eyes.  
  
The shuttle came to life as his consciousness filled it. The new Borg designs of ship allowed the Borg to control the ship with their minds, not their bodies. He blasted off into the emptiness of space.  
  
As he left the shields, he saw the Federation Starship with his ship's sensors. There were minor fractures in the ship's hull, and a major hull breach on deck 17.  
  
He also saw the other Borg ship, the weak Borg who had agreed to the Treaty of Alliance. They said it helped their technology and helped them to become one of the two most powerful species in the Galaxy, and making them more perfect. Now they were using that technology to attack his ship, causing severe damage.  
  
He fired at the other cube. A direct hit. Hundreds of their Borg flew into space, to join the Borg from his ship. It was a sweet revenge. He activated his time warp, to finish his revenge and become powerful again, and to complete his mission.  
  
Disrupt the conference leading to the Treaty of Alliance. Only a measly 100 years, in the 30^th century. That was his mission, and it would not take much power, unless he de-stabilized in the time hole. He had seen it happen on tests of the technology. It would be a very powerful explosion if he de-stabilized. It had wiped out 30% of the Borg ships nearby.  
  
The time hole appeared, its blue outlines crackling with energy. The Federation starship had noticed his attempt at the escape into time, and seeing his cube about to be destroyed by the weak Borg, started to pursue him. Damn. It would be more difficult and inefficient to complete his mission with them attempting to stop him. With their streamlined and powerful ships, they could follow and damage, but, to his advantage, he was more maneuverable, and could cause greater damage.  
  
He flew into the hole, with the ship on behind him. The hole in time re-sealed it self, cutting off the future, but not before a huge blast of light entered. It was a worthless future anyway, as he heard the cries of the now dead and defeated Borg fade in his mind.  
  
He set the co-ordinates, changing his course to intercept the other ship. He fired a torpedo, hitting the ship on its port nacelle. He rolled, and saw that there were fluctuations in their shields. It was being forced out the time stream, but it was still stable enough to pursue him. One more hit on their other engine would stop them.  
  
He fired again. Direct hit on the starboard nacelle.  
  
The ship shimmered, then shot a torpedo at him before it lost stability. Then the ship was gone. But not the torpedo.  
  
It hit with a force that seemed as strong as a supernova exploding. The co-ordinates were scrambled, randomly selecting a destination.  
  
Stardate 9.63288. Delta Quadrant, sector 74.  
  
He had time to vaguely remember that it was the date and the area that the Federation starship Voyager found fluctuations of a time hole.  
  
He vanished out of the time vortex, but not before he lost consciousness. 


	2. The Encounter

Chapter 1  
  
Captain Janeway looked at her PADD.  
  
"Are you saying this appeared out of nowhere?"  
  
"I'm stating the fact that it seemed to rip a hole in space ahead of us, then opened up," said Seven of Nine crisply.  
  
"How long has it been there?"  
  
"Approximately eight hours."  
  
Captain Janeway smiled. Seven was annoyingly efficient as ever, but she was still Seven. She still remembered Seven's performance near the Raven.  
  
In her ready room, Seven looked out of place. Her room was calm and peaceful, fitting her personality, whereas Seven was as calm and peaceful as a Mugato. Janeway smiled again at the thought.  
  
Seven's body-forming suit, which she said was more practical and efficient, explained her personality to a pinch. She was a perfectionist. Her face was stretched tight with annoyance, which was usually her reaction to something she didn't understand. And she sure as hell didn't understand this, Janeway was sure of it, as even she didn't understand it.  
  
Captain Janeway straightened in her chair and sighed. Her standard Federation suit was now as comfortable to her as her crew was lately, which wasn't a lot. Everyone seemed to be on edge.  
  
The smile left Janeway's face faster than a Klingon could drink blood wine. "Is something wrong, Seven?" Janeway had noticed that she was, well, vaguer than usual.  
  
Before Seven could answer, her commbadge beeped. "Chakotay to the Captain."  
  
Janeway pressed it. "Janeway here."  
  
"There's a ship in the wormhole. It's unknown, but it seems to be off-line  
  
and damaged."  
  
"Move closer and activate a tractor beam to bring it in. Janeway out." She turned to Seven.  
  
"I'm sorry, Seven, this will have to wait."  
  
Seven nodded, but she looked relieved. She followed Janeway onto the bridge, as Chakotay calmly said, "Red alert. Shields up and activate weapons."  
  
"Problem, Chakotay?" Janeway asked.  
  
"Yes, Captain. Our friend just woke up." The ship rocked as, on-screen, the ship darted in, firing phasers as it went. The ship itself was beautiful, as beautiful as a bird in flight. It looked like it belonged in space and the pilot sure seemed used to it. It rolled, and let lose a torpedo.  
  
"Whoever it is, it knows better flying than I do, and it's quicker than us," Tom Paris muttered at the helm. Janeway was shocked at this confession. He was their best pilot, and Starfleet would have benefited from his flying techniques, and he had gotten out of more situations than she could remember. The Neutron Star Binary situation came to mind.  
  
His handsome, tanned face was creased in annoyance as he tried his best to avoid the ship being hit. It wasn't working, as two more torpedoes hit the ships shields.  
  
"Seven, do you recognise the ship design?" She looked at Seven, whose composure was calm, her pale face as cool as Neelix's peppers were hot, and her composure was slack and relaxed. She kept her balance perfectly, even though the ship was bucking like a horse. Poor Ensign Kim was fighting just to stay in his place.  
  
"That ship is unknown to the Borg, Captain. Though I'm sure I've seen it before..."  
  
The ship rocked again, interrupting her and the ship onscreen twisted, and turned toward the vortex.  
  
"Shields are down, Captain," Tuvok stated this without any emotion whatsoever. Captain Janeway looked at him in surprise, shocked at how much power was in the torpedoes. She glanced at Chakotay.  
  
"Those are powerful weapons," she said.  
  
"His shields are down. One more hit from him and our hull will breach, but his situation is the same." he said  
  
"He's coming for another pass!" shouted Kim.  
  
"We have no choice. Return fire, Tuvok," Janeway said. She didn't need  
  
to turn around to know Tuvok had carried out his command.  
  
On-screen, red lines of phaser fire lashed out at the alien ship. The ship shuddered, then flew straight into the vortex.  
  
"Tuvok, get a tractor...." She didn't have time to finish her sentence.  
  
The ship exploded.  
  
The vortex seemed to scream at the space around it, seething at the event horizon, and it started to become unstable. Before she could blink, it disappeared out of existence, taking the debris with it.  
  
The Captain tried her best to look calm, but failed miserably. Chakotay had the same problem.  
  
"Scratch one more person," Tom muttered.  
  
Janeway glanced fiercely at him, and he glared back. It seemed the only person not upset by the death was Harry. Any death was a disaster by her reckoning. Especially if it was an unknown species, as it usually opened new horizons for treaties and passage through areas of space. She wasn't happy that this specimen had been hostile. Ensign Kim was looking at his controls, obviously completely baffled by the readings.  
  
"Captain, that was no ordinary wormhole."  
  
"How so, Mr. Kim?" Janeway pivoted her chest to look at him.  
  
"Well, the neutrino particles are very strange. I collected readings before it collapsed. The idea is probably based on creating a wormhole and seperating space, time and...."  
  
"Ensign, get to the point."  
  
He looked at his controls one more time for luck, then said,  
  
"It seems it was a time tunnel."  
  
Seven's face seemed to transform into a wild Targ's when she heard this, then asked to return to duty. The Captain knew Seven didn't work well when she was distracted by her memory, and since it was obvious by her face, which was twisted in trying to remember something, she sent her to sickbay instead.  
  
As Seven walked along the corridors, she wracked her brain to remember the feeling she got when she saw the ship. She remembered the Borg, and their ideas for future ships, the idea was there. That was it! The Borg had been working at... the sickbay doors opened for her, and she stepped inside. It was dark.  
  
Wait a minute. Sickbay was never dark. She looked around, startled out of her daydream.  
  
She was in Cargo Bay 4. What was she doing here? She backed out, confused, the doors still open. She walked off with a sense of uneasiness, as if something was behind her. But that was preposterous.  
  
Behind her, the Borg stepped from behind the storage container he had been hiding behind.  
  
She was the one. The other Borg he had registered. It was obvious, since she wore an obviously efficient suit. As he watched her hips move quickly and her body disappear round the corner, he stepped into the corridor, his standard containment suit flapping. He frowned down at it. He couldn't remember the date, but it wasn't in the 31^st century, and neither was any suit meant to have so many slashes or holes in any garment as his had, unless in a war, which he had been in.  
  
A crewman walked past, and, seeing his suit ripped, she kindly told him to get in regulation uniform or be reprimanded by a senior officer.  
  
He stared at her suit closely, and when she stopped looking at him strangely, she turned the corner. His mission was stealth, so he would be stealthy, fitting in. His suit rippled as his in-built replicator activated. It darkened at the chest and legs, and the gloves disappeared. His shoes became freshly polished, and around the collar became a deep mauve. Finally, a mock up of a Comm-badge appeared on his breast  
  
He looked down at himself. He looked perfect, and fitted the `regulations'. He walked on, passing several officers. They all looked at him strangely, as the woman had, but no one said anything.  
  
He looked at the deck, and saw the Borgs heat trail through the air. He followed it, but he bumped into someone on his way. They fell heavily on their arm, obviously breaking it. He walked past, ignoring their shouting and screams. Unimportant. He felt someone grab his arm.  
  
"Hey! You could at least apologize!"  
  
He flung his arm backwards, hitting the officer in the chest. The man flew backwards.  
  
"HELP!" He yelped, before he hit the wall and crumpled to the floor beside the man, still contorting on the floor.  
  
Two men in black and yellow uniforms ran round the corner, attracted by the shouting. Each one grabbed one of his arms as another guard appeared and inspected the human. Conscious. Slight concussion.  
  
"It's the brig for you, mate," Said the first guard.  
  
"Don't resist, now." Said the second.  
  
Unimportant. Both of them. They were slowing him down. He punched his fist into the first guard, doubling him over, then delivered a devastating knee kick to the head of the other. He grabbed the first guard by the collar, then slammed him into the wall. They both slid to the floor, groaning. The guard who had been inspecting the human stood up and, seeing his crewmates unconscious, aimed his phaser and fired. It just missed the Borg. He aimed his arm, and unleashed a bolt of energy. It hit the security guard on the head, covering him in crackling electricity. He collapsed against the bulkhead.  
  
He turned and briskly ran through the corridor, having no time for assimilations. He needed other Borg for that, to carry on if he was damaged.  
  
He ran on, ignoring the shouts from people.  
  
A door opened. He ran in, and saw people sat down at tables, gaping at him, food halfway to their mouths. A humanoid species with whiskers stood before him, gaping, in a human chef hat. Talaxian. Species 105... How long ago was that dialogue used? No time to think.  
  
"Who are you?" asked the Talaxian.  
  
He ignored the question, and headed for the other door.  
  
The door opened. Ten security guards stepped in, each carrying phaser rifles.  
  
"Duck!" One shouted.  
  
Everyone ducked. No one ignored that kind of command.  
  
They all opened fire at him; the phaser fire hit the Borg at angles, pushing his arms and legs backwards, and knocking him over the tables, making him hit the wall.  
  
He adjusted his shielding, and wondered how they had got there so fast. There were probably many of the officers aboard this strange ship.  
  
He stood up, aimed and fired. Once, twice, three times, all in the space of three seconds. Two beams hit two officers, and the third hit two officers who were all bunched up on their knees. They all toppled.  
  
He jumped forward over the tables and knocked down three more officers. He punched all three on the chin, knocking them out. He knew he was faster than they were, and all they saw was a blur.  
  
He jumped off them and ran, activating his in-built sensors, with phaser beams firing behind him. He walked round a corner, following his prey. Thankfully, it stood still in an area. He would be there soon.  
  
Seven was sitting on the bio-bed, waiting to be scanned, when she felt it. It was a touching of minds. There was another Borg on the ship.  
  
She cried out, and the Doctor ran up. He asked a typically human question.  
  
"Are you all right, Seven?  
  
Typical.  
  
"Of course not," She said through clenched teeth. She thought her head was expanding. The Doctor picked up a tricorder and ran it over her. He frowned.  
  
"Elevated hippocampus. Hmmm...."  
  
He stepped over to the diagnostic desk. The door opened.  
  
He looked up.  
  
"I'm sorry, you'll have to wait."  
  
Seven looked, even though moving her head was painful. There was a man at the door, blocking it.  
  
She gasped.  
  
"Seven?" The Doctor turned to her.  
  
As the Doctor was distracted, the man slammed his fist into the wall. Two tubes stuck into it. Nanoprobe tubes. Electricity flowed into the wall.  
  
The doctor opened his mouth, flickered, and then deactivated before he could say anything. The man grinned.  
  
"It's just you and me, now," he smiled, advancing toward her.  
  
Before he reached her, a hole formed in his head as a phaser blast struck him. He turned, surprisingly still active, but was shot again before he could do anything. He fell to the ground, twitching.  
  
Tuvok stepped over the body, calm as ever, being a Vulcan of course. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.  
  
She recomposed herself. Before she could say anything though, Janeway walked through the door.  
  
"Are you alright, Seven?"  
  
She evaluated herself.  
  
"I am fine, but I do not believe that the Doctor is."  
  
"I'll get Kim on it right away. But before that, I had better get Tom to get a look at our friend here."  
  
Janeway was incorrect. Surely this creature, whatever she suspected him to be, was hardly a friend.  
  
All three looked at the body, but only Seven did not react with surprise. The hole in his head, which should have been devastating, was already sealed. 


	3. The Attack

Chapter 2  
  
"Man, the Doc is seriously screwed," whistled Harry. This was an understatement. Seven again wondered why Humans where so fascinated by stating the blatantly obvious.  
  
They had been working at the console for nearly four hours, and still had no idea on how to unravel the cryptic code that covered the Doctors program. It was the most annoying task Seven - and probably Kim -had ever undertaken. And to think he had made the code in 2 minutes.  
  
Tom was working hard at a PADD in the Doctors office, feet up on the desk. The Doctor would have no doubt objected, if he were there, which he wasn't. He had been giving updates on the Borg's progress every hour in the conference room. Seven had revealed her findings to the Captain, which had revealed some of the mystery of his functions. This had been revealed earlier in the Conference room.  
  
"I have discovered in the Nanoprobe tubules four different types of nanoprobes," Tom said with swarm. "One type is organic, designed to assimilate, or repair, organic tissue. The second is technological; designed to assimilate any technology it encounters. The third - which I personally find worrying - is the airborne type." Silence had greeted this statement. The senior officers contemplated this fact. Airborne nanoprobes. They could get everywhere on the ship.  
  
"Has he released any?" asked the Captain, leaning forward.  
  
"Not yet, but I have established a force field just in case he leaks any."  
  
"Why has he not regained consciousness yet?" Asked B'leanna. "As  
  
Seven can tell us, the Borg are very resilient." She smiled nastily at her.  
  
"Lieutenant Torres is correct. He should have regained consciousness by now."  
  
"Well, we'll let Tom tell us why that is," Janeway said hastily, and glanced quickly at B'leanna. She motioned for Tom to continue.  
  
"Well, at the moment his nanoprobes -the organic nanoprobes- are  
  
fighting the technological nanoprobes, which are trying to cover the brain with the technological components that would have been there if Tuvok hadn't disintegrated it." Tuvok nodded at Tom's statement. "The organic nanoprobes were there first, as the organ would have needed replacement first." He punched up a diagram of the Borgs brain. The organic nanoprobes were red, the technological nanoprobes blue. It was indeed true that the two were fighting, but the organic was winning. As the technological parts were created, the organ was destroying it with its organic nanoprobes.  
  
The meeting ended with the question of what to do if he wanted to rejoin the Collective. The same question as when Seven had been separated. They all knew they wouldn't be able to stop him, seeing what he could do. They just hoped he wouldn't want to.  
  
"I want diagnostics every hour, on the hour. Dismissed." Janeway had sat back and sighed as Seven was leaving.  
  
Now, Seven looked back towards the motionless body on the diagnostic table. It was more powerful than even the 29^th century Borg that had been created from her nanoprobes and the Doctors mobile emitter, which was now lying, without its user, on the tool table. That kind of power could stop A starship by itself. A disturbing thought.  
  
An alarm sounded in the Doctors office. All three hurried to the table immediately. They all knew that alarm. The ensign had tested it, then had activated it. It was to alert them if the Borg awoke. A message was already on its way to Captain Janeway.  
  
Tom reached the table first, and immediately scanned the occupant with a tricorder.  
  
"He's coming round, but he'll be groggy when he does. Seven, you know Borg-speak, talk to him. I've got a hypospray full of anaesthetic in case he's in a bad mood."  
  
Before Seven could ask him what "Borg-speak" was, the Borg opened his eyes. He looked around, getting his bearings.  
  
"That would be ineffective. It would be analyzed then assimilated before it could reach my brain. However, I do not wish to harm you. At the moment." His voice was flat, like Sevens had when she had been separated from the Collective, but he had a deep American accent, much like Chakotays.  
  
He sat up, and looked towards the door. "This is not a Borg cube, neither is it Deep Space 12."  
  
Seven vaguely remembered from her research of finding the closest starbase when they returned to the Alpha Quadrant (from boredom, of course) that Deep Space 12 would not be built for another eighteen years. If they returned.  
  
"What is your name?" Kim asked while Tom scanned him again.  
  
The Borg frowned, then said to Paris, "I have run a self-diagnostic, and I appear to be in working order, except for gaps in my memory." To Kim, he said "My designation is Ten of Two, Tertiary adjunct of Unimatrix four, but most of my files are inaccessible."  
  
He swung his legs off the table, and stepped onto the floor.  
  
He cocked his head at Seven. "I will need food supplement, and I will need instructions. Please supply them within 24 hours, or this unit will cease to function."  
  
"Friendly, ain't he?" said Tom.  
  
"Wait a minute." Harry Kim looked troubled. "Borg don't eat.... Do they?"  
  
"They do not need external nutrition. The alcove supplies them with enough supplement to continue for their cycle," Seven reminded Harry. "But, this drone may need external supplement. Logical, if the drones would be separated from their alcove for extended periods."  
  
"It pains me to do this," Tom said as he punched his Comm-badge. "Tom Paris to Neelix."  
  
"Yes, lieutenant?" The voice warbled with enthusiasm, and the sound of cooking onions and simmering vegetables filled the room.  
  
"We need some nutritional supplement for the drone. I personally favor supplement 22," Seven cut in before Tom could ask for a pizza.  
  
"On my way. Neelix out," he replied, but it didn't stop them from hearing him start to sing before the communication was cut.  
  
"Talk about small favors," muttered Tom.  
  
"Mr. Paris?" Seven queried.  
  
"Hmm? Nothing." Tom was now occupied with something else, almost like B'leanna, his wife, who couldn't keep her mind set for two minutes. Maybe he was picking up bad habits from her.  
  
Kim shrugged and turned back to working on the Doctors program. Seven also turned to help him, but kept an eye on the Borg, now pacing next to the table.  
  
Captain Janeway walked through the door with Neelix a few minutes later. Neelix was carrying a metal dish with a steaming mass of worm-like vegetables, (which looked like had just stopped moving) a salad, a drink made up from who-knows-what and chocolate cake as dessert. Neelix had often forced Seven to eat such meals, much to her displeasure.  
  
"How is he?" Janeway asked as soon as she was near the table Tom was working on.  
  
"He's stable, and he ain't causing any problems."  
  
Janeway looked at Neelix who looked at the food on the plate. She looked at the vegetables and wrinkled her nose. Neelix didn't notice.  
  
"What's that for, Neelix? Someone get hungry?" From the look on Janeways face, it looked as if she wouldn't eat it if even if she was force-fed it.  
  
"It's for... what's his name?"  
  
"Two of Ten," supplied Kim from beside her.  
  
The Borg had noticed Neelix and the plate, and Neelix gave it to him after they had deactivated the force field. He ate quickly, then looked around the room at everyone.  
  
As his gaze fell on Seven, he tilted his head, as if remembering something, then his eyes narrowed.  
  
"You! You're the one!" he shouted.  
  
He stepped toward her, the forcefield flickering as he passed through it, and before anyone could stop him, grabbed Seven by the throat.  
  
"Gurgh..." gasped Seven as she was lifted off the ground. She kicked him, and Kim fired his phaser at him, but he ignored them both as his shield absorbed the impact. He looked into Sevens eyes, and she looked in his. He looked uncertain, then moved his arm toward her neck...  
  
Then stopped.  
  
"Must assimilate her.... The voices....Must be stopped...." He looked at his hand, then back at Seven. He suddenly dropped Seven, and backed away. He stepped forward again, then back again. He seemed to be struggling with himself, Seven noticed from her position on the floor.  
  
He looked down at her and pulled back his foot, aimed at her lungs. Seven waited for the killing blow. It never came.  
  
"I'm sorry," he choked out before he collapsed. 


	4. The Recuperation

Chapter 3  
  
Dammit! I keep forgetting disclaimers. Okay, okay - stop poking me, Paramount! - Star Trek Voyager and its storylines, related images and everything else to do with it is owned by paramount and Gene Roddenberry, the magnificent man, sniff! I'd hope he'd be proud of what I write here. Please don't sue me, I have no money (except for the two pennies I found under my tooth pillow last night) but that doesn't count. This is a work of fiction, meaning it ain't true, going to happen or will happen in the next ten years, unless of course history really does turn out like Star-trek. Thank you and enjoy!  
  
It had been two hours since the attack. The Borg had been lifted back onto the diagnostic table with the help of Kim, seemingly unconscious. Janeway had called another meeting angrily. Kim sat back in his chair as all the senior officers heard what he had seen that morning.  
  
"He is unconscious now, and Tom says he is fine. But I will not allow my officers to be assaulted by him." Kim looked over toward Seven. She was a beautiful woman, true, and capable of looking after herself. She was the one who had been assaulted, but she was a strong woman. What would have happened had it been him? He had frozen when he realized the phaser wasn't going to work.  
  
The Captain leaned forward. "He is much too powerful for us to stop him if he gets out of hand. We will have no choice but to let him go. If he rejoins the Collective, we can only hope." They all understood.  
  
There was a beep. Janeway tapped her Comm-badge. "Janeway here."  
  
"The Borg has awakened. He's asking for you and Seven." Tom Paris' voice rang through the room, and it was obvious he was hiding something.  
  
"On my way. Janeway out." She turned to Seven and Torres. "You two are with me. Tuvok, send six security guards to meet us outside sickbay."  
  
She stood and Seven and Torres followed her.  
  
They met the security detail just before they reached sickbay. Some of them were from engineering, as some of the security officers from the first attack were still recovering in their quarters.  
  
Inside sickbay, Tom was sitting at the Doctor's table, while Tuvok had stopped work to watch. As soon as he saw them enter the room, he went back to work, while Tom stood to guide them to the table.  
  
At the bed, the Borg was marching back and forth muttering. His face looked strained, but he was in control of himself. He stood to attention when he noticed them.  
  
Janeway exchanged a sideways glance at Seven.  
  
"I called you here to apologize to you for the attack 2 hours, 1 minute, 32 seconds, and 3 micro-seconds ago." His voice was cool, clipped and to the point. "The Borg in me had some control at that time, but I have now managed to control it." He turned to Seven. He looked uncomfortable.  
  
"I believe you are the young woman I attacked? My sincerest apologies." He bowed slightly.  
  
"Apology accepted," Seven said, using the calm tone she used most of the time. She noticed there was still the slight Borg-like quality in him, and she liked this. She noted and dismissed the emotion that came along with this thought. She felt it, and liked it, which was unlike most emotions.  
  
She noticed Janeway was speaking to Tom.  
  
"I don't want him escaping, Tom. He's much too dangerous. Do whatever you have to, understood?"  
  
"Yes, Ma'am."  
  
She realized that if she could hear them, then the Borg could too. She glanced at him, but all he was doing was studying her and the surroundings intensely.  
  
"Seven, you're with Tuvok. We have to get the Doctor on-line. We can't keep Tom away from the controls."  
  
"Yes, Captain."  
  
"I want Tom back at his station in one hour. Understood?"  
  
"Yes, Captain," All three said at once.  
  
The Captain looked at the Borg, now just standing still. She looked nervous, then said, "Seven, could you join me in my ready room in ten minutes?"  
  
She looked puzzled. "Yes, Captain."  
  
"Fine. Get to work people."  
  
She turned on her heel and walked out the door.  
  
Eight minutes later, Captain Janeway stood before her huge windows to space outside. Seven walked in through the door behind her.  
  
"You wanted to see me Captain?" She said.  
  
"Yes, I did." She stepped down and sat down in the chair behind her desk. "I want you to ask the Borg what his intentions are. What he wants to do. You're the only other Borg on this ship, so therefore he might listen to you if you suggest him not to return to the collective."  
  
"Was that the only reasons why you wanted me to talk to him, Captain?" Seven asked, quizzically cocking her head to one side. Janeway had to smile. So Seven had figured it out.  
  
"Actually, no. It seems to me that he has taken quite a fancy to you."  
  
"Captain?" Seven asked with a slight hint of alarm. "I would prefer if he took his...fancies...elsewhere."  
  
"Oh, it just means that he finds you more interesting than the rest of the crew he's been in contact with."  
  
"I will try my best to persuade him to not join the collective." She turned to leave and Janeway ducked her head toward her large cup of coffee and her PADD.  
  
"And to take his `fancy' off me." She said as she walked through the door.  
  
Janeway had to smile. Seven had a lot to learn about human language and slang. Frowning at the door, she also reminded herself to teach the young woman the meaning of "private thoughts".  
  
As soon as Seven got to the sickbay, she noticed that the Borg was pressing his hands against the force field, and crackling electricity curled around his fingers. He had a look of a adept fascination on his face, as if he was seeing it for the first time, which was very probable. She sighed, remembering the many years it took for her to adapt to human civilization again, and she privately thought that this newer version was going to find it harder. She cleared her throat and stepped forward.  
  
The change was instant. He looked up from the field, grinned and stepped toward her, pressing his hands, palm down, onto the force-field. His grin widened.  
  
"Hi-ya, sugar lips. How you doing?" he drawled.  
  
She was frankly shocked that he knew this dialect. She was very insulted, too, as he sounded very much like Tom Paris had done for the first few years of her stay on Voyager, before he married Torres.  
  
"I do not have `sugar lips', and I'd prefer you didn't use that course language with me. Now let us get this - situation - clarified. I have been assigned to adapt you to human life, nothing more, and, personally, I think that you and I should stay as far apart from each other," she growled. "Now, any questions?"  
  
"Just the one," he said, spreading his arms wide. "Can I use a corkscrew?" He raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Excuse me?" she inquired, also raising an eyebrow. If he meant what she thought he meant she would...  
  
"It's just that, you're wound up so tight that for me to do anything with you would be incredibly difficult, unless I wound you down first, if you get my meaning?" he wiggled his eyebrows.  
  
She exhaled in disgust, turned and shook her head, as Tom walked out of the Doctors office. He laughed and grinned at her.  
  
"You too, huh? He's been doing that all the time. He seems really friendly, and, well, human. Guess we did some major damage to the Borg in the future, huh?"  
  
She stiffened at this suggestion. Humans, doing any damage to the Collective! It was laughable.  
  
"Where is Ensign Kim? He is meant to be-"  
  
Tom cut her off with a wave of his hands. "He's in the holo-deck. I know, I know," he said, avoiding her glare, but he needed a break. Doctors orders. Well, filling-in doctors orders, anyway."  
  
She sighed, and went to the computer and typed up a few things on her pad. She passed it to Tom.  
  
"Send this through the force field, and tell him to digest it. I will return in 8 hours." She started to walk away.  
  
"Hey, where are you going?" he shouted after her.  
  
"I need to regenerate," she shouted over her shoulder. "Enjoy!" She chuckled at her first joke.  
  
"Oh, dear," Tom groaned at the closing of the doors. He turned to the Borg, who just raised an eyebrow. He turned back to the doors.  
  
"What ARE we going to do about that, huh?" he sighed.  
  
"Captain, I refuse to work with him! He is so annoying, condescending, arrogant, stubborn -" Seven's tirade went on.  
  
The Captain sat back in her chair in her quarters as Seven paced back and forth, ranting and raving. Only four days had passed since she had put her on assignment, and already she was in a frenzy. She had never known Seven to show true emotion other than anger, and, boy, was she showing it now!  
  
"Seven, calm down. It's only for -" She was cut off by Seven.  
  
"You don't know how long it will take! Sure," she said, as Janeway opened her mouth to speak, "his progress is great, but he'll pester me forever while he is on this ship! He goes on and on and on," she continued.  
  
Oh Dear, thought Janeway. If Seven can't stand him, who can?  
  
Terrible Chapter ending, I know, but please R+R! 


End file.
